


This Thing Between Bobby and Me

by herbailiwick



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 30 Day OTP Challenge, Established Relationship, M/M, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-30
Updated: 2013-05-21
Packaged: 2017-12-10 00:41:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/779822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herbailiwick/pseuds/herbailiwick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>30 Day OTP Challenge prompts done in Sam's POV about Sam and Bobby's relationship.</p><p>Mentions of Karen and Jess, and Brady.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Contact ("holding hands")

Bobby doesn't hold hands. At least, not habitually. Even when he's upset, he usually doesn't want to. And that's okay. I don't know if it's some masculinity thing or what, but it's how things are.

I used to hold hands with Jess, all the time. Watching a movie, out at a bar, even while studying. She liked to hold my hand when we crossed the street, like she was protecting me. She'd hold my hand in public sometimes just to make sure everyone knew we were together, which was a little intimidating but definitely flattering. Sometimes she even massaged my hands, and she was really good at that.  Actually, there wasn't a whole lot she wasn't good at. And the same is true about Bobby.

I think Bobby used to hold Karen's hand. He hasn't told me much about her. It's one of those topics you can read from a mile away as one you never want to push. So, I don't. I never will. He tries to avoid things that remind him of her, and holding my hand...wouldn't be the same, that's for sure. It'd probably remind him of how good he had it, of what he lost. My hands are too big and awkward. Which isn't to say Bobby's never held my hand. Just, not romantically.

That week we spent at Bobby's after Dad died? Dean was working on the car, and Bobby and I were watching a lot of daytime TV with the volume on low. And we were talking, and drinking. He did most of the drinking, and I did most of the talking. Little things, stupid things, about Dad. He really didn't know Dad as well as I forget and start thinking he did, but he understands enough. He saw Dad clearly, his flaws and his good points, and he's the only adult I can ever remember telling it to us straight.

Cold reality started to churn inside of me as Bobby started to watch, but I couldn't watch. I was too caught up in my thoughts. I could feel the regrets about Dad trying to take me under again from the inside, and I said, "Bobby? I should have been a better son."

"What?" He looked at me, surprised.

I shrugged, felt my tears come up and start to make everything look shiny and blurred on the outside like it felt in my heart. "Uh. You know," I shrugged again. "Dean was always better at....family stuff. I just...I fought with him. 'Bout everything."

I pulled a fist up to my mouth, bit at my knuckle for a second and closed my eyes, not really minding as tears slipped out and down. And then Bobby reached out and took the hand from my mouth. I stared at him, blinked against the wetness of my eyes, not knowing what to say, what he wanted from me, and he looked at me with pity, and he curled his hand around mine, and I looked down at them, the way they were joined, and I felt...safe.

I remembered then that Jess hadn't been the only one to hold my hand crossing the street. Bobby had done that too, when I was too young to cross by myself. As a test, I carefully gripped back, and he swallowed and told me, "Dean's a good son, but so are you, Sam."

The way Bobby says my name? He holds it, it's like I can trust him with it. I blinked again, wiped at my face with the arm of my free hand. "I'm not," I said. It was okay. I wasn't really upset about it, just regretted not being there more for Dad.

Bobby's grip tightened curiously on my hand, and I leaned forward slightly toward him. "You're just about the nicest, most _real_ person I know," Bobby told me. "You support everyone, you know that? You're just...." And he trailed off, shaking his head at me. I didn't know why at the time, but I think I get it now. He actually has a lot of faith in me, and that's...amazing.

I remember pulling his hand into my other hand too, cradling it between my dumb, oversized ones. And the day after that, we started the...thing we have, whatever it is, this awesome thing. 

We don't really hold hands, not like I did with Jess, and not like he probably did with Karen. Sometimes, if Dean is gone and Bobby's upset about something, he lets me cradle his hand. And sometimes he'll even do that for me. It means a lot to me. Hands are more important, more sensitive than people give them credit for, and that connection can be such a sign of solidarity and warmth.

But lemme tell you. He lets his fingers linger when he hands me things. He'll rest a hand on my shoulder or let me do the same. He lets me stand close when we're looking at a piece of lore or he lets me hold the paper still for him when he needs to jot down some notes.

And, for me at least, that's practically the same thing. That's just how Bobby holds hands.


	2. Comfort ("cuddling somewhere")

So you'd think for a man who doesn't hold hands, Bobby wouldn't cuddle. Hell, _I_ don't usually like to cuddle. I barely like to hug.

But...he smells like motor oil, and whiskey, and Old Spice, and I just like being close to him. He's just...comfortable. No, he's _comfort_. It's that simple.

Being near him, just...he's like a big, flannel blanket when the house gets drafty. He's like kicking off pinchy dress shoes to walk around in your socks on the linoleum. He's like the breath of confidence you get when you study hard and find out the test is more or less what you expected.

He _is_ whiskey and Old Spice, and he's the smell of aging paper. He's the texture of a room full of layers of clutter with a vague importance to the universe, and the routine of target practice followed by beer and lemonade. He's the sun glinting off of a sea of cars and warming your skin and he's a low, quiet singing voice with impressive tones, never loud enough to show off, never soft enough that I can't hear him. He's soft gazes with crinkles around the eyes and certain secrets only luck and a little booze can unlock.

Bobby is wonderful. His hugs, the open way he smiles at me sometimes, his mud-caked books and his investment in soap operas that typically outweighs his investment in soap.

I like him in plaid and fading vests and baseball caps. I like him in suits with that odd cockiness he gets when he wears them. And I like him naked and shy when he'll allow it, too.

I didn't really cuddle with Jess much. I was comfortable with holding hands. I loved that, in fact. But cuddling...I don't know. It seems so...weak sometimes. Maybe I didn't get hugged enough as a kid. Maybe that's true of Bobby too. Or maybe it's just preference. But either way, we don't mind settling in next to each other on the couch, on the bed, drunk or sober, together.

Sometimes he runs his fingers through my hair, curling through the strands, tugging lightly, making the skin of my scalp start to tingle and come alive. Sometimes I kiss his cheek or rub my own against his beard.

I've trimmed his beard before. He's let me.

Mostly, we just cuddle, sometimes sinking into his old quilt and sagging bed with the door locked and nothing between the skin of our sides and a prayer that Dean won't come home anytime soon, not just yet.

The comfort was a surprise. We keep it mostly behind closed doors, not about to make what we have seem permanent and terrifying to Dean or, admittedly, to ourselves. But I know that if we wait til Dean's gone or if we wait til I'm tipsy and handsy and being an idiot anyway, Dean won't suspect anything.

Yeah, I've nestled right up to Bobby before after a few drinks. And despite liking that we have our secrets, despite not really wanting Dean to actually know, it's kind of nice to have that thrill of danger.

Hey, I'm not perfect, even when comfortably resting against Bobby on his dusty couch.


	3. Hit & Miss ("gaming/watching a movie")

There was a point where Brady wasn't possessed. When I met him, he was just a regular kid. And he'd sort of watch me sometimes. I didn't know what he meant by it at first, so I mostly ignored it, until he finally made a move, and I responded, and that was about it. It didn't really change much between us, except in a couple ways it did. I don't know.

I remember playing Xbox with him. Video games were his favorite thing. He was fascinated by all the gameplay and the graphics and the strategy. He even tried to get a job as a game tester, but that didn't pan out. Anyways, I remember how we'd sit, shoulder to shoulder, how sometimes we'd play for hours and sometimes he'd just pause it and we'd start making out because, seriously, Brady was a really good kisser, and once he tied the controller's cable around my wrists, and...never mind.

I kissed him after he got possessed too, but it was different. I know why that was, now. Yeah, I guess Ruby wasn't the first demon I ever screwed around with. I'd take it all back if I could. I would. Even if it was kind of...hot, in a scary way. Brady'd always been a little wild, but the demon was very enthusiastic about the dark tendencies. I can see that now.

Bobby has an old NES with Duck Hunt that a friend of his gave him a while back. I bought Super Mario Bros. for it too, and it was cute how much he enjoyed it, and how much he got frustrated when things didn't go his way. 

When I paused it to lean in and kiss him the first time, he gave me a weird look cause we don't kiss that often, but after a second to consider it, he turned off the Nintendo and pulled me in close, and even coaxed me into his lap. It was totally worth embarrassing myself at Duck Hunt afterward. I'm really, really bad.

Bobby's more of a card game and board game type guy, though, and, honestly, so am I. I never really had a lot of opportunity to play video games growing up, and my fun memories of college were a little tainted after Jess and then, as I found out about Brady later, after Brady.

I can't believe I let Jess's killer....

Oh man.

Uh, anyways, Bobby and I sometimes played strip poker in his room when Dean was out. One time we even played strip Monopoly. Strip Anything is where Bobby's sore loser side comes out. Normally, he accepts his fate when we play a game, but when he has to strip, he tries to talk his way out of it, tries to cheat, or even tries to stop the game. I usually let him, too, cause he exhausts himself and then we usually end up stripping anyway, plus, I can't be pissed at him when his face is all red. I'm only human.

I like playing games with Bobby. Even when I was soulless, we used to play poker all the time. Everything was a game to me then. Even Bobby was a game to me. I almost killed him, you know? And it took us a while to work past that.

I remember him trying hard to do his part, though. He even bought a new TV just so we could hook up the Nintendo and I could fail at Duck Hunt again. 

Seriously! He'd needed a new TV for a long time, but he bought one I think just so we could play video games together again. He won't admit it, but I think it's true. 

Because Bobby's amazing. And I may not be able to shoot some pixelated duck, but I sure have Bobby wrapped around my finger.


	4. Life's Illusions ("on a date")

I kind of figured something was up right off the bat when Bobby put on a suit without it being for a case, when Bobby took me to a high-end restaurant and tried to...romance me. There was _champagne_. I'm serious.

Our "dates", or, you know, our random chance moments of alone time, usually consisted of us sitting shoulder to shoulder while reading lore, or, if we were separated by distance, like most of the time, maybe we'd talk about our day, or, okay, flirt about our day. And if we were a little more blessed, we might actually get around to sitting at Bobby's favorite local bar (meaning, the one he grouched about the least) or sitting across from each other at some random diner, when we could manage it without Dean.

Or even a coffee shop. Coffee shops are the best. Nice chairs, nice and quiet, and they always smell amazing. They smell like...what home probably smells like. Metaphorically, anyway. Some of them even have a chess set out, or something like that, so you can pass the time. A nice little coffee shop can make you feel like a civilized person for a few hours.

But a coffee shop was usually as fancy as Bobby got about it all, except for that one time Bobby made lemonade and sandwiches and we had a picnic at the park. It wasn't just a nice day. It was a _perfect_ day. The sun and the breeze made me feel...alive, and the grass was soft and lush under the blanket like it understood the feeling, and Bobby looked really at ease like he got it too, though he looked just a little bit sad. I remember figuring that the whole picnic thing must have been a holdover from his time with Karen. I still think it was.

I don't like fancy restaurants. I barely manage to grasp how to be polite in everyday situations, but stick me in a suit in some unfamiliar chair with a confusing menu and a fear I'm gonna break everything, and I just...well, I'm not at my best. But, Bobby was proving some...point or something, I supposed. Maybe it was just that he cared about me. Which, message received loud and clear.

"So, you really splurged," I said, loosening my tie. "Why?"

Bobby gave me a look that meant he definitely wasn't ready to talk about it, so I just waited in silence until Bobby parked and turned the engine off. The moon was already out, the sky almost completely dark, the cars and scraps around us imposing in their stillness, the line of Bobby's shoulders tense.

"Bobby?"

"Shh," he said.

When he told me to go inside, I lingered by the car for a little bit, concerned. Bobby was really acting...strange. His heart seemed more heavy and private than words could help with, his mind caught up enough that I almost wondered why he'd even taken me out. I'd done most of the talking. And the eating too. He'd been handsome and polite, but there was something going on. That became clearer and clearer.

If Dean ended up coming home early, I didn't wanna be caught in a suit at night while Bobby was also in a suit at night. If Bobby was a little more with it, I'd figure he wanted to take the suit off me himself, but it so wasn't that kind of night. My heart twisted a little to leave him out there all alone, but I had to.

I came back down the stairs well after I heard the front door open and shut, and I watched from the bottom landing as Bobby poured himself a drink and flicked the record player on. Joni Mitchell's voice called out, and I tried to use the song to gauge Bobby's mood.

Bobby's tie wasn't even loose, and there I was already in sweatpants and an old t-shirt. "Bobby?"

He looked up at me, and there were tears in his eyes.

So I sat down next to him. The light near the stairs was on, but it didn't do much for Bobby and the couch. I rested against him, and he let me, and he put his arm around me in the almost dark, and as Joni sang about a lost love, he said, "Anniversary."

I nodded. I counted. Our first anniversary was around the time of the changelings, our second was the Rising of the Witnesses, our third was when Bobby was in the hospital. On our fourth, he convinced me to track down a nest of vamps with him while I was soulless and then we took a weekend off for ourselves, our fifth was when Dean and I were trying to take care of that baby shifter. That was a year back. That made this our sixth.

"Six years," I said.

He nodded. "I knew her longer than that, but...."

"Is that how long you were married?" I asked. He pulled closer.

"I guess it kind of scares me," he said vaguely.

Joni sang in the background:

_**I've looked at life from both sides now,** _  
_**From win and lose, and still somehow** _  
_**It's life's illusions I recall.** _  
_**I really don't know life at all.** _

Maybe he meant the passing of time was scary, the reminder of how long he'd been without her and that it'd only get worse.

Maybe he meant the idea he might be forgetting about her was scary. I felt that way about Jess sometimes, and about Dad.

Or maybe he meant it scared him how serious we were getting, how close we were. We were never supposed to have anniversaries. We were never supposed to get so...familiar. So...formal. We were supposed to be each other's second best, or whatever, except Bobby's amazing. But we were supposed to be that, because I'm not Karen, and he's not Jess, and both of us care way too much about Dean.

So I didn't ask what he meant. Maybe I should have, maybe I was scared and selfish not to. Instead I only said, "Jeeze, I'm sorry, Bobby."

Hand a solid weight on my shoulder, he leaned in and kissed my cheek. He pulled away again, leaning back against the couch for more than just physical support. After a few minutes, I went to the closet and found Bobby's secretly-favorite throw, soft and worn and floral, so I could tuck it in around us, and he handed me his glass to sip out of in the almost darkness, and we let Joni sing her heart out.

We sat there until the record ended. That was our sixth anniversary, and the fanciest date we ever had.


	5. Of Luck, For Luck, By Luck ("kissing")

The first time I ever kissed Bobby Singer, my dad had been dead less than a week. Dean wasn't really talking to me, he just sort of stuck to working away at the Impala. But Bobby? Bobby was listening. 

The day we exorcised Meg Masters was the first time I'd seen Bobby in years, and I sort of recognized that he was flirting. Flirting was definitely new. He swaggered over and sat down on the desk near me, and he cracked a joke about demons. And it's weird that I should have felt more of an urge to kiss Bobby for that than I'd ever felt with Sarah, as sweet as she was, as pretty and interested and interesting as she was, and so smart, but that's the truth.

I read a story once about Sarah and me. Some random person on the internet paired us up, and in it I went to find her after Dean went to Hell. We started a life together, and I didn't get ahead of myself trying to get revenge, and I never ended up starting the Apocalypse. She would have taken a lot better care of me than Ruby had. I can see that. But, all the same, I don't think I would have let her try. 

I didn't even let Bobby try to take care of me when I ran off, and he was pretty desperate to. I know he was jealous when he saw I was with Ruby, even though he didn't know it was Ruby at the time. I'm sorry I hurt him. Our first kiss after Dean came back took place after I warded off one of Bobby's Witnesses with a crowbar. It took place in the yard, with Bobby half hanging out of the car with the iced mirror, in a rush of adrenaline and gratefulness for our sheer dumb luck.

I guess I should finish talking about our first kiss, though. Really, it never should have happened. Bobby was making me laugh, though. Something about "You Know You've Been Hunting Too Long When" and it was so accurate. I think it had something to do with salt lines. Anyway, I was charmed, okay? And then he got quiet and embarrassed and told me, "I wish you could go back to Stanford," all of a sudden. Just like that, his laughter gave way and he was sorry, like he cared, like my life and my dreams meant that much, made him feel something, made anyone feel something.

And I asked him, "You do?" 

He told me he didn't want this life for me.

He told me I'd make a hell of a lawyer if I ever got half a chance.

I looked at him like he was new and inevitable, and I leaned in a little cause we were sitting at the table eating Bobby's cornbread.

And I kissed him. 

He didn't pull away from it. He reached out and in the most gentle, solid way possible, he cupped my chin and tried for more. And what parts of me hadn't fallen for Bobby by that point in time...did.

Bobby loves to kiss. I kind of think kissing is...intense, I guess, so I'm not as big of a fan, but Bobby will claim you with a kiss, in the most...brilliant, the most...cherishing way possible.

I can't believe I just said that. He would kill me if that got out. But that's the right word all the same. He _cherishes_ me, in his own way. Not in the way he still cherishes Karen, but he doesn't owe me that. He doesn't owe me anything. Hell, for all he's done for me, for the whole world, _I_ still owe _him._

And I got to save him again, even after he died, you know? I got to protect him like no one ever seemed to but Karen and Rufus, ever since I knew him.

My last kiss with Bobby was in Purgatory as we were waiting for a ride that never showed. Before Benny came to help us, we thought we might spend eternity there together, two stupid humans with no way out. So we made out against a tree. And the passion was so thick you could choke on it. And only a couple vamps appearing snapped us out of it. We always did appreciate an adrenaline-fueled kiss.

He floated up to Heaven when Naomi let him go. I wish he'd gotten to say goodbye to Dean, but maybe we'll see him again, like he insisted.

I'm sure he's with Karen right now, like he should be, like he always should have been. And I miss him like hell sometimes. His comments, and his kisses, his cornbread, and all his jokes.

I'm really glad I got to save him one last time, though. I kind of dig being the hero for once.


	6. Smooth ("wearing each other's clothes")

When Rufus died, Bobby took it pretty hard. Rufus had been his partner, his guide, his other half for years. Before I was even born, Rufus started protecting Bobby. He was there for him when his wife was possessed. The stuff Bobby'd learned as a hunter? A good chunk of it came right from Rufus.

So I went with Bobby when Bobby wanted to start sorting through his things.

We drank some of Rufus's liquor and browsed some of his books. We sorted out amulets and dog-eared pages with spells written on them and a bunch of other things I'd never even seen before.

In a box full of old earrings and pins and cuff links, there was this pair of smooth little reddish pebbles with a symbol carved into them. I'd never seen the symbol before, but it looked kind of like the sun, with a little person inside, and I finally asked, "Hey, Bobby. What are these?"

Bobby dropped the jacket he was looking over and held out his cupped hands so I could drop the pebbles into them. He walked over toward the broken place in the blinds where the sunlight was streaming in and looked them over. "I don't know," he finally said, and he shrugged, handing me one of them.

The moment we each had one in our hands, something happened. For a second, I thought I'd just teleported a few feet, but when I looked over and saw..."Bobby"...it clearly wasn't that simple.

Bobby dropped his pebble with a shout, staring at "me". The connection broke, and I was back where I'd been before, back in my own body.

Bobby stared at the pebble down by the toe of my shoe. "I've seen a lot of things," Bobby said. "But these things?" He raised the one in his hand up, eyeing it, shaking his head. "These are too powerful. We need to get rid of these."

I bent over to pick mine up again.

"No, Sam!" 

"Don't," Bobby said with a sigh, in my voice. He didn't drop the pebble again, though.

"This could be dangerous," Bobby said in my voice. I looked down at Bobby's chest and stomach, at his shirt with the red stain from the leaky jar of blood he'd picked up earlier.

"Yeah, maybe," I admitted in Bobby's voice before stepping closer to Bobby.

"What are you doing?" Bobby asked, furrowing my brow, and I laughed my own laugh in Bobby's voice and pulled Bobby's hat off the head I was wearing. 

"Just wanna try something," I murmured, and leaned up to kiss my own lips.

Later on, when the distraction of the novelty gave way to Bobby trying to ignore me into putting the pebbles back, I pocketed them when he wasn't looking.


	7. Followed Suits ("cosplaying")

Bobby and I played a lot of roles when we went on a hunt, and sometimes they required costumes.

I know what my favorite of Bobby's was: suits. He just seemed so much more confident and flirty in a suit, like he knew how good he looks, and that _gets_  to me. I've actually snuck off with him in the middle of hunts before because of his attitude when he's in a suit, because of the way he looks at me.

And Bobby liked it when I wear any kind of uniform. Janitor, security department, firefighter, even mechanic. The grimier the better, for some reason. Which is really kind of hot too.

I remember the first time I saw him in a suit. We were working a case together trying to find the Seven Deadly Sins, who were wreaking havoc on Earth after Jake opened the Hell Gate. It ;was a struggle to keep my eyes off of Bobby, until, of course, one of his friends died bloody.

He was wearing one of his suits on our last case, too, actually. When Dean went to the restroom at Biggerson's, I just leaned in and stole a kiss. Bobby had asked me why.

Why was because I wanted to cheer him up and make him feel desirable. Bobby hadn't appreciated being referred to as, "Creepy Uncle", or as a "geezer". He was sensitive about his age and our relationship, and I don't blame him. I mean, he met me when I was like three and used to play pretend out in his yard with the cars, but there was nothing wrong with the way things unfolded twenty years later.

He worried, too, about the fact I was still "young and handsome" and shouldn't have been saddled to him, but while I wouldn't have said no probably if I'd found a woman I thought I could spend the rest of my life with (like Amelia, but that was after he was gone), I loved Bobby and what we'd had.

I wouldn't have traded a second of my time with Bobby, not one damn second, not one damn phone call about Bobby's guilt or his theories of why we were together when he was drunk, not one awkward freaking moment where he'd go all I Miss Karen on me without saying it. I was in it for what I could get, and that turned out to be a lot.

So when Bobby asked me what the kiss was for, I shrugged and said, "You're not creepy, Bobby. Just wanted to make sure you remember that."

And I think he died still feeling good about our relationship.

If we'd buried him, we probably wouldn't have put his best suit on him. I bet we'd have buried him in a baseball cap and a vest and a lot of plaid. I bet we'd have buried him with a gun. A suit was a costume, a playing card in Bobby's deck of Hunting tricks. The attitude that came with the suit was sweet, was really attractive, but most of the time Bobby didn't even have anyone around to flirt with while wearing one. He usually tried to keep flirting to a minimum.

Most people would have remembered the Bobby in those worn-down caps, caps like the one that got shot through. It's blood-stained, and blue, and I have it in my bag at all times. I know blood counts as remains, but I didn't care.

I have his tie from that case too. I don't really wear it, but I have it. I have all Bobby's ties, though most of them are in storage. I wear some too, though.

The last time I saw Bobby, he was in his regular digs as I led him into Purgatory, back out to Earth, and then finally up to Heaven. He's up there probably dressed the same, trying not to settle down. 

Sometimes I miss the way he looked in a suit, the thing half off him as I had my way with him, his somber face and the clean smell of him at a funeral, that Easter morning we joined an old friend of his at church. 

That's my favorite costume of Bobby's, no contest. And I've got the ties to prove it.


End file.
